Pompeii
by sevenonesix
Summary: We were caught up and lost in all of our vices. In your pose as the dust settles around us. (Just a little one shot post 3x18 thoughts.)


_I was left to my own devices_

_Many days fell away with nothing to show_

_And the walls kept tumbling down_

_In the city that we love_

_Great clouds roll over the hills_

_Bringing darkness from above_

* * *

She stares down at her phone and takes a deep breath. It's ringing again and a sense of dread fills her immediately. Something is wrong. Everything is horribly wrong. Where is she going? What is she doing? She closes her eyes and takes several deep breaths, trying to calm her racing heart. The past five years is running through her head like a movie but all she remembers is him. His crooked smile and his bright eyes. The way his arms wrapped around her as he whispered her name. What is she doing?

"Stop the plane," she yells nearly jumping out of her seat. "Stop the plane!"

"Liv," Jake says questioningly, moving to stand in her way. "What are you doing?"

"I can't do it," she cries. "I can't leave them. I can't leave _him._ I need to get off this plane."

"Liv...your father..."

"I don't care. Get out of my way, Jake."

"But..."

"GET OUT OF MY WAY!"

* * *

Mellie places the phone down and sighs, looking at her husband. She has called Olivia three times now and each time it has gone to voicemail. Olivia isn't there but she is and she's not enough. He is broken, so broken, and at this moment she blames herself. Maybe if she had been a better mother, a better wife. Maybe she really did cause their marriage to fall apart.

"Come on," Fitz she says softly. "You have to get off the floor."

"Livvie," he murmurs. "Where's Liv?"

"She's not answering."

He looks up at her then and it's like he just realized what is happening for the first time. Like the possibilities have just suddenly occurred to him. He stands but it's too much, too fast. There is too much pressure, too much grief, for him to stand. He stumbles and she reaches out to steady him, moving them quickly towards the couch. He slumps against the cushions and she tries the phone again. Ringing fills her ear but once again, it goes to voicemail.

Sighing, she stands and touches his arm. "Fitz, you stay here okay. I am going to talk to Cyrus. Maybe he knows where she is."

His answer is a nod. He is no longer capable of words.

* * *

She's running. She is running so fast that she can feel the burn of her calves and the pain of her heels. She is running but she has to get to him. She has to tell him how much she loves him and how sorry she is.

She hits the halls of the White House and the part of her brain that knows PR, that is a fixer, knows she can't run through these halls. That if she runs then people will know something is wrong. But the part of her that loves him, her heart and soul, is telling her it doesn't matter. It's telling her to just get to him. It doesn't matter how she gets to him as long as she gets there. So she runs.

She runs until she reaches the outer office of the Oval Office and almost collides with his wife.

"Mellie," she says, her breath leaving in short huffs. "Is he..."

"He's in there," Mellie says quietly and Olivia notices the pain there instantly. "He needs you. We were calling your cell and... he needs you."

She takes in the woman in front of her and sighs. She is a shadow of her normal self and Olivia realizes for the first time how much this presidency has broken them all. How it has destroyed them and all they knew themselves to be.

"Mellie," she says. "I am so sorry."

The response is a short nod of acknowledgement and then a deep intake of breath. Mellie straightens her spine and moves to walk past her but stops and turns at the door.

"He needs you," she says before leaving.

* * *

Fitz is reaching for the scotch when he hears the door creak open. He looks up expecting to see Mellie or Cyrus and his heart stops when he realizes it is Olivia instead. Her breathing is heavy, erratic, and she walks slowly towards him with a slight limp. He doesn't care though because she is here.

"Livvie," he chokes out barely above a whisper.

She is by his side in a second and he reaches for her immediately. He pulls her onto his lap and holds on tightly, burying his face in her bosom as the tears begin to wrack his body. He squeezes her so tightly she can barely breathe but to her it doesn't matter one bit. She would gladly give up her last breath if it would bring him peace. She just holds him tightly, as tight as she can, and soothingly runs her fingers through his hair.

He's not sure how long he cries in her arms. It doesn't really matter to either. All that matters is the safety of their arms.

"Fitz," she says softly once his tears subside.

He looks up at her then and her heart clenches at the pained look on his face. "Where were you," he whispers. His voice is tired and hurt.

"I...I," she sighs heavily. "I was going to leave."

"What?"

"I thought if I left... I am the scandal and I thought the only way to fix it was to leave."

"Livvie," he murmurs.

"I was wrong, Fitz."

"Please don't leave me," he whispers and tightens his grasp. "I need you."

She reaches out and brushes the hair off his forehead. "I'm here but Fitz, you have a speech to give."

"Promise you won't leave?"

"I won't leave," she whispers. "You go give your speech and I will stay right here."

His arms tighten around her again and she drops her head to his shoulder.

"I love you, Fitz," she murmurs. "I will be here. I promise."

She stands and reaches her hand out for him. He stands with her help and wraps his arms around her once more.

"I love you too."

"Go give your speech," she says softly, touching her hand to his cheek. "I will stay right here."

He places a kiss on her lips and straightens himself out, using his best politician skills, the skills she taught him, to remove the grief from his face. Within seconds, he looks Presidential again. The pain is still there written on his face and she wonders briefly if it will ever fade.

"We need to talk, Livvie," he says stopping at the door.

"I know. We will but first you have to go be President."

He nods and opens the door. She watches him leave before collapsing back against the couch.

* * *

_How am I gonna be an optimist about this?_

_How am I gonna be an optimist about this?_

_Oh where do we begin?_

_The rubble or our sins?_

* * *

_A/N: Well hello. I still have terrible writers block when it comes to Arranged Love but I've been kind of working on potential other stories and this was something that just came to me. Also, I'm obsessed with the song Pompeii. I may or may not sometimes walk around doing the eo o eo o thing. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this little one shot. Let me know what you think._


End file.
